She shook her pretty head and continued sewing on
the costume she was to wear at the Oyster Bay Venetian Fete and Go-cart
Fair.
"No," she said, threading her needle and deftly sewing a shining, silvery
scale onto the mermaid's dress lying across her knees, "I'll take my
chances with men. It's better fun to love a man not intended for me, and
make him love me, and live happily and defiantly ever after, than to have
a horrid old machine settle you for life."
"But you are wasting time, dear," explained her stepmother gently.
"Oh, no, I'm not. I've been engaged three times and I've enjoyed it
immensely. That isn't wasting time, is it? And it's _such_ fun!
He thinks he's in love and you think you're in love, and you have such an
agreeable time together until you find out that you're spoons on somebody
else. And then you find out you're mistaken and you say you always want
him for a friend, and you presently begin all over again with a perfectly
new man----"
"Flavilla!"
"Yes, Pa-_pah_."
"Are you utterly demoralized!"
"Demoralized? Why? Everybody behaved as I do before you and William
invented your horrid machine. Everybody in the world married at hazard,
after being engaged to various interesting young men. And I'm not
demoralized; I'm only old-fashioned enough to take chances. Please let
me."
The family regarded her sadly. In their amalgamated happiness they
deplored her reluctance to enter where perfect bliss was guaranteed.
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